


Welcome To Hell

by flowerslut



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 04:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4815668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerslut/pseuds/flowerslut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She loves him, and hates herself for it. Requested post-canon dystopian Konoha. SasuSaku. Semi-tyrannical leader Sasuke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When she walks through the streets now, she doesn't see children playing or people laughing at the market. In fact, it's rare that she even witnesses someone smiling anymore.

Parents are too afraid to allow their children to venture outside by themselves, even if it's just to go to a neighbor's. The amount of villagers that have pulled their children out of school makes Sakura's heart break. The amount of children that have been pulled out of the Academy is almost enough to warrant its closure.

Of course that will never happen. Even if it's only for a handful of children,  _he_  will force it to remain open. After all, he needs all the young, impressionable ninja he can get his hands on in order to warp and twist their minds under his command.

Just last month one child killed another during regular morning training session; they were only nine. Instead of receiving punishment or suspension, the surviving child was rewarded with a certificate of graduation. Sakura attended the child's small funeral, standing on the far edge as the family mourned. Her attendance was not only due to the sadness and her anger from the situation, but in order to publicly defy _him_.

Her way of saying, 'This isn't right. I'll never agree to any of this.'

The poor children who remain enrolled are only there due to their parent's fear of the consequences that would befall them if they were to do so.

Nowadays, fear is what control the people. It's what keeps them from rioting.

Sometimes people are too afraid to even travel to the hospital. That's one of the many things that causes Sakura to cry at night. Usually people seek her out at odd hours of the night, when they finally risk venturing outside to find help.

Sakura makes it a duty of hers to make as many house-calls as she can. Sometimes she wonders if he knows that she's working behind his back and without his approval and as soon as the thought enters her mind, she dismisses it. She doesn't care what he does or doesn't know about what she does anymore.

She hasn't feared death in a long time, and every now and then she thinks she'd prefer it. She figures that if he wanted to kill her, he would've done so by now.

On rare occasions when he leaves the village to travel, she emerges and tries to see as many people as possible. Despite their loyalty toward Sasuke, the ANBU always let her pass through their security in the torture and interrogation unit. She spends a good amount of time down there in their cellars to see Kakashi.

Some days, in between greedy gulps of the water she brings him, he'll admit to her that he wishes Sasuke would just get it over with and kill him. He's withered away. Malnourished, weak, and broken. The sight makes Sakura want to simultaneously scream and cry, but she knows she can't afford the moment of weakness.

Sakura thinks that Kakashi is still alive not due to some sort of shred of humanity on Sasuke's part, but due to the fact that he represents the hope of the past.

If Kakashi is alive then the people of the village still have some sort of hope to cling onto.

That's really the only thing that keeps the villagers going, and Sakura knows that Sasuke uses that to his advantage. Despite his aversion to the past and every part of it, Sasuke will do what he must to keep everyone under his control.

Sakura uses Sasuke's absences to visit her remaining friends. She visits Ino in the hospital, bringing her flowers and setting them up at her bedside.

Ino had only lasted five months working in the torture and interrogation unit under Sasuke's regime before she—to put it simply— _broke_. Sakura finds herself wondering if Ino even knows who she is anymore; her friend functions but no longer lives.

Sakura mourns as if Ino has really died, just like Naruto did.

Nightmares still plague her from the war as she watches strangers and friends alike die around her. She still sees Neji die, she still sees the body of Tsunade lying cold on the ground, she still sees her friends—heartbroken and furious—trying to kill Sasuke, but all failing.

When she feels like mourning the loss of most of her friends, she'll seek out Hinata and Lee—she doesn't seek out Shikamaru any longer, and sometimes she wonders if he hates her as much as she hates herself.

They won't do much or even say anything to one another. They'll pass a bottle of sake around and writhe silently in pain until the alcohol clouds their mind enough that they'll fall into an uneventful, dreamless sleep.

Lee who doesn't talk about youth anymore and who forces smiles in order to try and lighten his friends' pain; it never works but Sakura has learned to appreciate the gesture.

Hinata, who is paralyzed from the waist down, pierced by Sasuke's blade only mere days after the end of the war. Hinata, who lost hers and Naruto's child just hours after finding out of her pregnancy. Hinata, who doesn't speak much anymore, her heart broken beyond repair.

Sakura remembers the attack with vivid clarity. She remembers watching as Sasuke ruthlessly murdered Shino first and Tenten next, as they stood in between himself and Hinata. She remembers watching from the window in confusion and horror as his blade sliced through them effortlessly, cutting them down just outside the hospital doors.

She doesn't remember running toward Sasuke when he pierced Hinata's belly, but she remembers screaming and throwing punches and  _god_ , she'll never forget the look on Hinata's face from where she lay in the dirt, a silent scream that would never escape caught in her throat as her open mouth gasped for air.

She remembers being held up by her throat, her eyes blind with tears, her fingernails digging into his wrists, his blood covering her fingertips as he glared at her with his mismatched eyes. She remembers swinging her legs trying hard to kick him before he slammed her against the hospital wall, cracking the concrete and pressing his body up against hers.

She remembers watching her blood drip down her nose and chin, staining his forearm. She remembers watching it closely, focusing closely and trying to fight the blackness from taking over.

"You're not even worth killing," he'd declared, allowing his chidori to dissipate as he threw her to the ground.

She remembers screaming at him from where she laid on the ground, delirious and nauseous and in so many different types of pain she could hardly stand it.

"I hate you! I hate you so fucking much! Fuck you! I fucking  _hate you_!"

She remembers screaming until he disappeared from her sight, screaming until her throat was raw, screaming even as witnesses tried to help her off the ground and drag her back into the hospital.

Sometimes Sakura wonders what things would be like if she'd known of Hinata and Naruto's secret relationship, or if she'd known about the pregnancy before Sasuke had.

She'll spend days at a time imagining scenarios in which she helps Hinata escape the village and live secretly, away from Sasuke's heinous establishment. But she knows that sooner or later, no matter how much she wonders and dreams, Sasuke would've found them, and Naruto's child would've ended up dead one way or another.

His name is hardly even spoken anymore. People are too afraid to mention him in fear of being overheard. They don't know what the punishment would be, but no one is willing to be the first to find out.

She's approached one night, almost a year after the war, by Shikamaru. It's hot outside—the remnants of summer still lingering—and she's stirred out of a deep sleep by his gentle, quiet prodding.

She sits in bed, disoriented by the sight of him and a few strangers in her room. She listens, stunned as he quickly, and with as few words as possible, explains the rebel group that's started an underground movement in Konoha and Suna's slums.

When he demands her to accompany him he waits an entire five seconds, studying her confused, shocked, _conflicted_  expression, before eventually nodding, a quiet "I see then" rolling off his tongue, before he and the strangers are gone from her room.

She doesn't ever see him again and she finds herself wondering whether he's still alive or not. He may have hated her at the end of everything, but she still loved her friends. Through both hate and death, she loved them more than anything.

She doesn't see her parents much at all. She's too busy in between doing damage control around the village and helping the villagers in any way that she can to stop by and say 'hello'. She's too afraid to spend too much time with her family. She knows what Sasuke can do to them and she doesn't want to take any chances.

But despite everything, despite the hate that she holds and the fury that burns bright inside her soul, somehow she still finds it in herself to  _love_.

She loves her friends and the people of her village. She loves her remaining comrades, despite their allegiance—no matter how strategic it may be—to Sasuke and his establishment. She loves the summer rains that give her a reason to go sit outside in silence, simply to enjoy the feeling of the warm water on her bare skin.

She loves and it's hard and it  _hurts_  but she still knows how to hate with the best of them.

She hates that her friends are broken and battered and dead.

She hates that her village has fallen apart and that the daimyo of Fire Country refuses to do anything to help.

She hates that she doesn't know how her friends in Suna are doing—she hates that she no longer has any contact with any of her comrades from other countries.

And most importantly, she hates herself more than anything.

Even more than him.

On one peculiar occasion, when she's approached by an ANBU and commanded to head to the main office—the building that used to be the Hokage's tower—she's furious when she finds out she's being summoned to a meeting about finally spreading his rule "more thoroughly" throughout the neighboring nations. She's even more furious when he tells her that he expects her to be one of the main assets in accomplishing his mission, primarily in Lightning Country.

She says nothing and he continues as if he hadn't been expecting her to.

When the office is finally empty of most of the company, she glares at him—simply sitting lazily in his chair behind his desk—from across the room, a fire burning in her chest that she refuses to ignore this time.

It doesn't take him long to dismiss Juugo and when his bodyguard is finally gone, Sasuke finally stands, leaning forward slightly to rest his hands on the desk.

"You  _will_  do this."

Her fists that had been tightly clenched at her sides begin to shake. "And if I refuse?"

"You're not allowed to."

"And why the hell not?"

"'Cause," he stands straighter, lifting his head and looking down his nose at her, "it's an order."

"I've never taken orders from you before," she seethes through clenched teeth, "and I don't know why I'd start now."

"I've spared your family. Your remaining friends. Your comrades."

Sakura scoffs, "Wow, you've kept yourself from killing people? Must've took a lot of restraint."

To his credit, he doesn't light up with fury like she expected him to, and that just increases her frustration. She knows how to endure him when he's angry, violent, hateful, but his silence and toleration makes her nervous.

"Send someone else," she forces the words out, trying not to sound as anxious as she is, "I'm not interested in spreading your terror any further."

When he moves slowly and with purpose toward her, she stiffens, her muscles nervously twitching as she tries hard to interpret his movements. Her instincts are screaming at her and her fight or flight response is about to kick in when he speaks again.

"I can make it worth your while."

"Then bring back my friends," she spits out angrily as he approaches. When he pauses just before her, she forces words through her mouth again, "Bring back  _Naruto_."

Instead of striking her, snapping at her, or reacting harshly at the mention of the name—like she's expecting him to, like she's seen him do to so many other people—he frowns and tilts his head ever-so-slightly to the right. His eyes study her as if he's examining her and Sakura feels disgustingly uncomfortable under his gaze.

Before her eyes can notice, he's gone, and before her panic can build up thoroughly, she feels him standing behind her, his breath tickling the back of her neck. She gasps at the feeling but remains completely still.

"The dead are dead for a reason," he informs her coolly.

"What about me then?" she asks, angry at herself when her voice shakes. "Is there a reason that I'm still alive?"

She doesn't expect a serious reply, so when he says "Perhaps," her eyes widen and she prays that he'll stay behind her—she doesn't want him to see her expression. She doesn't want him to see the surprise in her eyes.

"You could've killed me—you  _should've_  killed me already. You've had endless opportunities,  _Sasuke_ ," she hisses his name like a snake, the name rolling off her tongue and leaving a bitter taste in her mouth, "what are you waiting for?"

"Contrary to what you may think, I'm not planning on killing you."

"Yet," she snapped, wishing he would step back so that his breath would stop tickling her neck.

"At all," he corrected. And with those two words she can just barely sense his frustration with her. At that moment, she's absolutely livid.

Turning around quickly she lifts a hand to strike him, angry when he catches her wrist and spins her back around, twisting her arm behind her to the point where if she struggles she know it will break.

"Stop it," he demands in a cold, deep voice. "Stop trying to get me to hurt you."

"Fuck you," she spits out, her voice openly shaking. "Stop acting like you don't  _want_  to hurt me you fucking evil asshole."

"You're right," he speaks calmly, "I could've killed you by now. I could kill you right now if I wanted to. I can list at least twenty ways right now if you'd like me to."

"Don't even bother," she snaps, struggling to get out of his grasp. When she lifts a leg to kick him he swiftly steps to the side and moves forward, pressing her against a wall and wedging one of his legs in between hers to keep her from kicking him again. "Just fucking do it! Just kill me already! Stop postponing the inevitable!"

When she realizes she's crying she shouts out in frustration and stops struggling. If it weren't for Sasuke's body pressed against hers she would've simply sank down the wall and crumpled to the floor in a disgusting mess of sobs and shouts.

Instead, his body keeps hers upright and when he releases her arm and grabs her by the shoulders, Sakura is too weak to even struggle as he turns her back around to face him.

"You…" he begins and then stops, his eyebrows knitted together as he regards her with something akin to confusion. "You are just… so  _fucking_  annoying."

She's tired, and as she stares back at him through eyes flooded with tears she's taken completely aback when she sees something she hasn't seen in a while. It's in his eyes; the way he looks at her as she cries and allows him to hold her up.

It's a quiet, confused, almost  _gentle_  look he gives her, and for a moment this isn't the evil, disgustingly corrupt Sasuke that the world knows and fears and hates. For just a few seconds he's actually _there_  and he's actually  _seeing_ her instead of looking through her with plain disregard.

For just a moment, he's her Sasuke-kun, and her dead heart flutters with a feeling she has tried so, so desperately hard to rid herself of.

She hates many things, herself being one of them.

But she hates herself merely for the fact that even throughout this all, she still loves him.

And just as she acknowledges the look, it's gone again, replaced by indifference and hostility. But it's _there_  and it's not dead and Sakura knows that it's a long shot but there's a chance that he's still there—her Sasuke-kun—deep down under the walls he's put up and the barbed wire he's arranged around his heart.

_What's happened to you?_

The words echo through her head silently as she lifts her arms—heavy, so, so heavy—and presses her fingertips to his cheek.

_Why have things gone so wrong?_

Pushing off from the wall slightly, she stares at him, her eyes never leaving his as she presses her palms to his face.

_When did you become so… so evil?_

His words reverberate through her mind again—' _I can make it worth your while_ '—and when he presses his body against her, pressing her fully against the wall once more, she lets him.

 _Why… how can I still love you?_   _What's wrong with me?_

When he lifts his hands and brushes them against her neck as he pushes her hair back behind her shoulders, she shivers involuntarily.

_I'm awful._

He leans in a presses his face into her neck, breathing her in deeply before planting sensual kisses against the soft skin.

_I'm weak._

She gasps breathlessly and lets him kiss her skin, her hands sinking down to grip his shoulders with shaking arms.

_I'm just as evil as you._

And when he finally kisses her—desperate, hungry,  _hard_ —she kisses him back despite the furious voices in her head screaming at her in disapproval. His hands wander and she lets them, gasping and moaning and shaking with every caress and kiss that meet her bare skin. She runs her fingers through his hair and grips the dark strands by the roots, trying to pull him closer to her despite the fact that it's physically impossible.

She wants so much more, even though she knows she shouldn't want  _any of this_.

Her body is on fire and her mind keeps shutting out the warnings her brain is trying to send to her. Instead she lets the pleasure take over her, blinding the rest of her senses with the most thrilling feeling.

She loves him, and she  **hates**  herself for it.


	2. Chapter 2

The following winter she gives birth to a baby boy.

He's small and sick and for weeks she doesn't sleep, afraid that she'll lose him the moment she closes her eyes. But eventually he starts eating more and he begins sleeping through the night and the first time Sakura sees him smile she cries so hard that she's sure anyone watching her would fear the worst.

Sasuke stops by occasionally, usually to make sure she's being tended to and that their son is still thriving.

She asks him if he wants to hold their son once and only once. He doesn't even verbally reply; instead he looks her up and down, lets his eyes flicker to the infant, and turns around, briskly walking out of the room.

Sakura doesn't see him for three days after that and never asks him again.

She doesn't bring him out of the house for a few months, afraid to let anyone see her child. After news about her involvement with Sasuke circulated around the village, many stopped approaching her, asking for help. Only the truly desperate ones would still seek her out, begging for assistance.

And despite her relationship with Sasuke and whatever it was that they needed–food, medical attention, clothing–Sakura would do her best to help them.

She was caught red-handed while helping a villager one night by Sasuke when she had just entered her third trimester of her pregnancy.

The poor, single mother of four had dropped the bag full of clothes and diapers–taken by Sakura directly from the nursery that Sasuke had demanded to be stocked upon finding out about Sakura's pregnancy–and fallen to her knees, immediately in tears and begging for his forgiveness.

It almost broke her heart as she watched the woman react to him. Sasuke paid the woman no mind though and instead grabbed Sakura by the arm and just about pulled her after him.

He had Juugo follow her around after that; the giant man had been given specific instructions to keep her inside during the dark and resting instead of "helping those disgusting, ungrateful civilians".

But still, despite Sasuke's orders for her to get rest and stay off the streets, she still found ways to help the few people that still trusted her.

The day Sakura brings her son out into the village for the first time, she's almost too anxious to visit her friends. She knows Lee would love to see the baby, but she's afraid of what Hinata's reaction may be.

Hinata… whose own child was killed in her womb by Sasuke himself…

But after Lee sees the child he  _insists_ –with a wide, genuine grin on his face–that Hinata would love to see the child.

That night, just before sundown, she knocks on Hinata's door and holds her breath, waiting for her friend to answer. But when the door flies open and she's met with a face she's never seen before, she panics.

Before she can flare her chakra up–something that Sasuke had made sure she would do if she were ever in trouble–she sees a familiar face standing just behind the stranger.

"Shikamaru," the name sounds strange on her tongue and she hasn't seen him in almost two years. But he's there and he's  _not_  dead and it takes her a few seconds to realize that it means that the resistance is still alive.

"Get inside,  _now."_  His voice is deeper than she remembers and his tone startles her but she does as she's told and quickly makes her way inside the house.

Holding her son close to her chest she is immediately aware of how the occupants of the foyer are staring at her and her child; there's no doubt in their eyes about who she is and whose son she is holding.

She strides up to Shikamaru and stays close to his side, following him carefully as he walks further into the house. She finds a few familiar faces; Temari looks just as she did the last time she saw her, except perhaps a few ponytails less. Sakura is visibly pleased to see both her and her brother Kankuro still alive. The blonde medic standing in the corner catches her attention and once she takes in his vest–what the native kumo-nin wore back during the war–she realizes that she's walked into something that she shouldn't have.

"What are you doing Shikamaru?" She hears Temari ask him, storming up to him with a glare as her eyes shoot from him, to Sakura, and back again.

"Giving us exactly the edge we need," he replies immediately. And although he doesn't turn to look at her, she knows exactly what he's referring to.

"Shikamaru," it still sounds strange to speak his name out loud, "what is this and what are you doing?"

"This is nothing you need to worry about."

The way he dismisses her makes he suddenly angry. "Where is Hinata? What the hell are all of these people doing here?"

She almost jumps when a deep, strange voice speaks from behind her. "Let's just kill them and–"

Before Sakura can raise her chakra and silently call for Sasuke's help, Shikamaru turns and does something she's never seen him do.

He  _yells_.

"If you touch her or the child then you'll die and your family will be slaughtered," his tone is thick with anger, as if he's enraged at the mere mention of killing Sakura and her baby, "we're in  _Konoha_  now, not Suna. Try and act on your own and you'll be dead before you know it." His angry eyes flicker to Sakura and she's shocked when she realizes she's speechless. "We can't harm them, or he'll kill us for sure."

"Shikamaru I'm serious. Tell me what's going on or I'll–"

"Sakura, we both know that if you do anything then all of us will be killed," he speaks, gesturing to the entire room of shinobi. "Your husband isn't known for his mercy."

She clenches her teeth, "Sasuke and I aren't married." She doesn't know why she feels the need to clarify, but his tone struck a nerve.

"Oh for fuck's sake," she hears Temari chime in, "as if it matters."

It's with those words that she realizes that these people don't view her as a friend or an ally any longer. For all they care she's just as good as another enemy to them.

"We're leaving. Hinata's coming. Feel free to join."

"I–I don't–I can't just–"

"Shikamaru!" The stranger pipes up again. "You can't just tell her to come with us! If she does then he'll find us for sure! Especially with the fucking kid!" There's a rumble of agreement throughout the room and Sakura finds herself clutching her baby closer to her chest as she spins around to meet the eyes of the man. His eyes are dark and his hair is a few shades lighter than Sasuke's but he towers over her by at least a foot, easily the tallest ninja in the room.

She knows he's trying to intimidate her, the way he leers down at her, clenching his fists at his sides, and she knows deep down that he would never pose a threat to her–if needed she's sure she could quite literally pummel him into the ground–but it's the fact that she has her helpless son with her that makes her uneasy.

"I'll say this one last time. We kill the kid, kill her, and leave. A warning to that sick fuck that we're coming for him."

Sakura takes a step back and when the man takes another step forward she suddenly doesn't care that this man will die if he lays a hand on her, the only thing that matters is the safety of her son.

She flares up her chakra and suddenly the room is full of chaos.

One of the ninja in the room notices immediately and lets out a terrified shout, telling the rest of the room that " _he's on his way, he's on his way right now, we're going to_ _die_ _"_ and shinobi are moving around her so quickly that she feels herself growing dizzy.

When a hand grips her upper arm hard, she spins, preparing herself to fight with everything she has to keep her son safe. But as she sees Shikamaru's strangely calm face she immediately stops.

"Do you trust me?" He asks loudly, his voice somehow reaching her above the chaos around her.

"Do you promise not to hurt a hair on his head?" She spits back, holding her son so tightly that he begins to fuss.

"Yes. Now  _do you trust me_?!"

Without thinking she nods multiple times quickly, too afraid to open her mouth in fear of her voice shaking.

To his credit, he tries not to startle her and moves carefully when he reaches forward and takes her son out of her arms. The moment the weight is gone she feels bare, empty,  _scared_ , but she watches as he swiftly grabs a blanket from the back of a nearby couch, wraps the baby in it, and lays him down carefully in the center cushion of the couch.

It's then that her infant son begins to cry loudly, his wails shaking her down to the core and making her feel sick to her stomach. But she kept her eyes focused on Shikamaru, trying hard to trust him despite the fact that she was shaking all over.

He makes a few hand signs and makes eye contact with her.

"This is going to hurt."

In the next instant she feels searing pain unlike any she's felt in years. She can't hold in the sound of her scream as she cries out in agony. She isn't sure what's happening to her but the sound of her son crying, mixed with the sound of her blood hitting the floor is the last thing that falls on her ears before she's enveloped in silence.

.

.

.

She wakes up days later, disoriented and body pulsing with pain. She's awake long enough to see a familiar face.

Shikamaru is standing across the room, speaking with a couple of ninja whose names she doesn't know in low, hushed voices. Before she can attempt to speak or even sit up, her view is being blocked by the blonde kumo-nin from before. Green-lit hands gently press her shoulders, keeping her down, and as a hand hovers over her head, she finds herself growing dizzy, unconsciousness taking over in seconds.

.

.

.

When she finally wakes up again she's in the bed of a small, windowless room and dressed in plain, civilian clothes. They're light, tan, and thin and she immediately remembers that she is in Suna now.

She stands and wanders around the room. It's has a strange, homely appearance and she finds herself running her fingers along the cabinets of the small kitchenette on the far end of the room.

Without warning her thoughts rush toward her son and she collapses to the ground, the tears and emotion overcoming her and rendering her completely immobile.

All she can do is sit and cry.

.

.

.

Over the course of the next several weeks, she learns everything they will tell her despite the fact that she is clearly and openly not trusted.

The secret resistance–which originated with Shikamaru back home in Konoha–now thrives here in Suna, openly and without fear of Leaf involvement. Sasuke, she learns, doesn't have as much of a grip on the other nations as she's been led to believe. Temari, who took over control of the Hidden Sand with help from Kankuro, tells her that he's only been to the village once, over a year ago.

"He didn't fight us, or try killing anyone. All he did was tell me that he'd be back, and that we needed to stay out of Konoha's affairs. We have, and he's left us alone." Temari tells her one night with a hard face.

It makes Sakura wonder what Sasuke has been doing with all his time spent away from the village.

Sasuke, who has so much blood on his hands that she wonders if taking a life even affects him anymore. (She isn't sure if it ever did.)

Sasuke, who she doesn't fear any longer. Who she is  _positive_  still has some shred of humanity in his body somewhere. (She just hasn't found it yet.)

Sasuke, who only ever initiates physical contact during two specific times; when they have sex and when he leaves on his missions. (He only ever rests a hand on her shoulder before he wordlessly departs, but it  _means_ something. She  _knows_  it does.)

Sasuke, who she still loves with every ounce of her aching, awful heart.

.

.

.

She learns that the only villages that Sasuke has a real influence over are the smaller, less defended villages. The Hidden Sound, Grass, Waterfall, just to name a few, are entirely under his regime. The Hidden Mist is the only great nation that he actually has a hold of, and even so the grip is weak, with an entirely separate resistance already growing steady in their slums.

For weeks she has nightmares where she wakes up and Sasuke is there, and Suna is burnt to the ground.

.

.

.

After a month she has a breakdown and demands to speak with Shikamaru–who she hadn't seen since her arrival–about the whereabouts of her son.

She screams and cries and has almost entirely destroyed her living quarters–she incapacitated the two guards that usually stand guard at her door within minutes of her meltdown beginning–when he strolls in, hands in his pockets and frown on his face.

Grabbing him, she demands to know what happened to her son, whether he's safe in Konoha or not. Shikamaru lets out a long sigh and Sakura almost pummels him into the ground because of the look of pity he gives her.

"Sakura…"

His voice sounds tired, and he lifts up a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

"When we left that night–"

Immediately, she releases him, his tone of voice terrifying her. "No." She whispers. " _No._ "

"–he was safe. On that couch. The one you saw me put him on. But–"

"No," she's shaking her head. "Stop. No, you promised me. No…"

"Sasuke knew we were in there–the resistance–and he didn't bother even entering the house–"

"Shikamaru, please," she's begging him now to stop, as she lifts her hands over her ears and falls to her knees. "Please. You  _promised_  me, damnit! No, no,  _no_!

"He destroyed the entire premises just after we left. Your son was still inside."

.

.

.

Sakura doesn't speak to any of them for almost six months.

.

.

.

The next time she speaks, she's being escorted back to her room after sitting in on a meeting between Shikamaru and the other heads of the resistance. They'd infiltrated the Hidden Mist and met up with the leaders of the resistance there to solidify an alliance between the two.

It was before they brought her into the stairwell to bring her back to her quarters when she saw it.

Temari was leaving some room and had just opened the door as Sakura passed by.

She couldn't take her eyes off of the older woman's  _very_ pregnant belly.

"Oh," she'd stopped abruptly, heels digging into the carpet as she brought her escorts to a halt. "Congratulations." The words were dull and entirely insincere, but for some reason they came out of her as if it were a natural thing to say. Immediately after, she averted her eyes, and continued walking, entering the stairwell and not once looking back.

After that, she refused to leave her room or eat anything for days. Her grief over her lost son still fresh in her mind and her heart. She still was in denial. There was no way Sasuke had simply destroyed the building with the fact that she and their son could've potentially still been inside. He wouldn't. Sure, he was  _Sasuke_  and what most people believed to be evil incarnate, but she was positive that he cared about them.

But slowly the little doubts began to creep in.

Knowing Sasuke, even if it meant killing innocent people, he'd do it in order to be rid of those who opposed him. Sakura knew that.

She'd only hoped that she–and their infant son–would've been an exception to that…

.

.

.

The first time she saw Hinata was four days after she'd begun to refuse her food. The woman entered her quarters soundlessly–the only thing that tipped Sakura off to her presence was the squeaking of her wheelchair–a ninja standing guard at the open door, peering in and watching. Just in case Sakura had another fit; just in case Sakura started destroying things again.

They always watched her like she was a bomb; unstable, uncontrollable, unpredictable. They were right to do so, but it doesn't mean it didn't bother her.

She was lying on her side in the bed on the far side of the room when Hinata wheeled herself up to her, stopping once she was at the end of the bed, toward her feet. Sakura could see her out of the corner of her eye and wanted to ignore her. But after several long minutes of silence, Sakura couldn't stand being watched passively anymore.

"Shikamaru sent you."

She could just barely see Hinata shake her head 'no'. "He actually told me not to come." At this admission, she wheeled herself closer, moving so that she was directly in front of Sakura. "I've been trying to see you for months now, but I haven't been allowed to be at this end of the building. And well," she gestured toward her chair, her limp legs, "there really isn't much I can do when I'm like this."

Sakura felt a soft twang of pity in her chest, but the feeling was easy to brush aside; it was nothing in comparison to the pain she still felt over learning of her son's death. At the thought, and before Hinata even began to speak, she knew what she was there for.

"Did you know?" Sakura asked, tears soundlessly falling to the bedding below her. "After we left your place that night, after we arrived here, did you know?"

She shook her head, "All I knew was that you had come with us, and your son hadn't. I didn't know my house had been destroyed until a couple months later. It didn't even occur to me what had… happened… until Shikamaru told you. Then… well, word got around."

Sakura believed her. Hinata had never been anyone who would tell you anything other than the whole, uncensored truth. But somehow even so, she still managed to be a genuinely kind person throughout it all.

So when her quiet tears quickly turned into full-blown, heart-wrenching sobs, Sakura allowed Hinata to move forward and wrap her arms around her, providing comfort that only someone who had also lost a child could do.

.

.

.

Sakura doesn't see Sasuke again for almost nine years.


	3. Chapter 3

She was walking alongside Hinata when the alarms began to sound. Meeting eyes with her old friend she suddenly felt her breath catch in her throat and her blood turn cold. Never, in the decade she’d been in Suna, had she ever heard them go off, and as the power went out and the emergency lights around each corner began to flicker, the adrenaline kicked in.

Scooping Hinata up out of her wheelchair she turned and ran, the other woman wrapping her arms around her neck; they both remained eerily quiet.

They’d ran drills throughout the base before, that way each occupant would know what to do in case of an emergency, so as Sakura sprinted through the corridors and down several sets of stairs she eventually flew through an unmarked set of metal doors.

“What do we do now?” She heard a young ninja ask her as she flew by, depositing Hinata into another wheelchair at the far end of the room. Turning around she watched as multiple people looked at her, fear in their eyes, as if seeking guidance.

Meeting each of their eyes—her own only flickering to theirs for a second each—she felt her chest ache. Many of them were children in her eyes. Young members of the resistance who had grown up knowing that the name  _Uchiha_  meant nothing good, and who had grown up simply waiting for their peace to end.

Sakura had known this day was coming despite never wanting it to arrive. Hardly a month ago Kumo had been attacked, and despite the fact that they managed to escape being taken over, they’d suffered incredible casualties. Forty percent of their military had been decimated and nineteen percent of their _civilian_  population had been slaughtered.

It wasn’t until Sasuke realized that the heart of the resistance  _wasn’t_  in Kumo when they retreated. And when they did so—with only minimal casualties on their end—Sakura knew it wouldn’t be long before Suna was struck down. After all, they were the main target, Shikamaru had informed everyone with a serious look.

Sakura had only seen Shikamaru once since the reports of Sasuke’s attack had gotten around. She knew he was busy preparing and that there was a mission that would take place any day now—a mission that he had excluded her from, despite their regained trust in her—that would take place in Konoha.

“Sakura-san?” Another voice pulled her from her thoughts and she lifted her head to see none other than her friend’s young daughter standing uneasily in front of her. “What do we do?”

Just a child, she was the smartest genin Sakura had ever come across—something understandable given who her parents where—but again, she was just a child, and the fear that flashed through her eyes reminded Sakura of that, not allowing her to forget that she was in charge of lives now.

She met eyes with Hinata and when her friend nodded toward the exit, Sakura turned and quickly made her way toward the door.

“Sakura-san–?”

“Everyone, listen up,” Hinata instructed, pulling the attention of the young genin and chuunin away from her retreating form, “if you have teammates unaccounted for do not worry, there are two other guarded rooms in the base, just on different levels…”

Hinata’s voice slowly faded into the background as she exited the room, and when she began to run, making her way to the ground level as quickly as possible, she could only hear her heartbeat in her ears, blocking out the sound of the alarms that were still blaring. But just as she reached out for the doorknob, the blaring noise stopped abruptly.

She stumbled a bit, confused at the lack of sound despite the fact that the emergency lights were still flashing and they hadn’t received any notice. But when she heard a voice from down the hallway and around a corner, she froze up completely.

“Thank fuck, I thought that noise would never end. How the hell did you figure out that door was the right one?”

And when another voice chimed in, she felt the nausea build. “It’s the only door with a red ‘caution’ painted across the front, moron. It’s common sense to—“

The moment she second voice stopped, Sakura knew why. Turning around she ran down the hallway, grabbing the doorknob to what she knew was an extra office and throwing it open. It was a small office, but with the lights out she knew it would be easy enough to hide herself from sight.

Although despite her childish actions she knew it wouldn’t matter; Karin was a sensor, and had undoubtedly felt her presence.

Minutes ticked by slowly and as Sakura’s anxiety reached its peak, the doorknob slowly turned.

“Whatever you do,” a quiet voice whispered into the room as the door opened, “don’t say a word. And keep your chakra as concealed as possible.”

Sakura immediately stood from where she’d been crouching behind a chair, fists lit green with chakra and ready for a fight. “What—“

Karin flickered in front of her immediately and Sakura could  _see_  the panic behind her glasses; her question died on her lips and instead she wanted to ask something else.

_Why aren’t you attacking me?_

“You’re not dead,” Karin muttered to herself under her breath, “fuck. Holy shit. Okay, look at me,” as Karin grabbed her clenched fists, Sakura shuddered, “you need to lower your chakra now. He’s coming this way to investigate and you’re, well you’re supposed to be—fuck. I still can’t believe you’re alive. Just,” she squeezed her fists again, harder this time, and shot the pink-haired woman another desperate look. “Just be quiet, and lower your chakra.  _Now_.”

“Karin.”

As that single word fell upon her ears, Sakura collapsed to her knees. The green disappeared from her hands, the breath flew from her lungs, and for several long seconds she felt as if she were dreaming.

Standing in the doorway was none other than Sasuke himself.

“Ah, Sasuke, I was just coming to join you guys,” the way Karin could sound switch tones so nonchalantly and so unsuspectingly made Sakura’s head spin with unbridled confusion, “false alarm.”

Sakura couldn’t see him too well from around Karin, but his silhouette was unmistakable—for some reason her first thought was about how badly he needed a haircut. “It’s not a medic?” His voice reeked of skepticism.

Every word he spoke shattered Sakura’s heart more and more with each memory his deep timbre brought forth. She hated him. She loved him. She’d never wanted to see him again, and yet this was all she wanted, simply to look him in the eyes again.

But as she glanced up to meet his eyes—why had he not reacted to her presence yet?—she slapped a hand over her mouth, fighting back a gasp.

Grey eyes stared straight ahead, unseeing.

Sasuke was blind.

“No. Although the chakra was promising, it’s just an ordinary girl hiding under a desk from the stupid alarms. Nothing special about her.” Karin shrugged as she turned fully toward him, “Where’re the others?”

“Leaving,” he stated simply as his empty eyes scanned the room, looking for something they couldn’t see anyways. “Just like we are.”

And without another word he turned and walked away, moving with more confidence than a blind man should reasonably have.

Before Karin followed behind him she turned around and bent so that she was at Sakura’s level. After a quick embrace, and a few mumbled expletives under her breath, she looked into Sakura’s eyes and spoke quickly.

“Get ready,” she warned with rushed, whispered words, “after he finds a medic to fix his eyes he’ll be back. And he’s going to destroy  _everything_.”

.

.

.

Hours later she stood on shaky legs in Temari’s office as she recounted Karin’s warning, voicing her confusion along with it. The older woman had found her, minutes after Sasuke and his team had departed, sitting on the ground of the empty office, shaking, crying, and hyperventilating. She could feel a complete meltdown coming and it only made her heartbeat faster as she stood and stared at Temari through blurry eyes, listening to her every word.

“We attempted to recruit her a couple years back—after Sasuke tried killing her, and failed—but she chose to remain in Konoha instead and be a mole.”

“He’s blind,” Sakura breathed out, “I saw him and he didn’t know it was me and—and—“ closing her mouth abruptly she told herself to focus on her breathing. She hadn’t had a meltdown since seeing Sasuke and she doesn’t want it to resume—and oh, it certainly will—until she’s in the privacy of her own quarters. But speaking of him is causing walls built in her chest to start to crumble, the foundations shaken to the very core.

“He broke in and demanded competent medical ninja. Assumedly to fix his eyes.” Temari sighed, leaning back in her chair.  Suddenly, Sakura felt dizzy. Her thoughts immediately went to her students, how one of them could’ve been taken, and how one of them could have their lives in the hands of a madman now. “We don’t know how long it’s been like that—none of our sources had reported damaged eyesight—but we sent Shi with him.”

Sakura gaped openly, despite the relief she felt, knowing that her students—both the young and the old—were safe. “Just like that?” But when she saw a glint in the woman’s eye—a look that was undoubtedly picked up from Shikamaru over the years—Sakura felt herself calm. “You have a plan.”

“I do. And I can’t tell you it.”

“I know,” Sakura swallowed thickly, blinking back tears that were slowly working their way out of the corners of her eyes, “it’s okay.”

Because despite their trust in Sakura and the role she played, she was still never permitted to hear about missions and plans put together that had to do with Konoha or Sasuke. And she understood, to an extent, that they couldn’t be too careful and that the extra measures they took with her were merely precautionary, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less even after ten years.

Still, Sakura held in her tears and bit her tongue as Temari told her everything she  _could_  know, and her voice remained steady when she finished describing, in depth, her run-in with Karin. In the back of the head she knew that a meltdown was guaranteed once she made it back to her room.

Yet, minutes later when a bloodied Shikamaru just about kicked down the door, dragging an emaciated Kakashi through, Sakura’s willpower was destroyed, the sight of his familiar, sickly face causing the tears to explode as she knelt before his body and began to do everything she could to stabilize him.

He was only conscious for seconds, just long enough to smile at Sakura—mask-less and bloody and so pitiful—and apologize in a scratchy voice. “Sorry I’m late.”

It turned out the mission Shikamaru had been on with multiple others had been both a top-secret rescue and a retrieval mission. Brought back with them was Kakashi—broken out of the cell he’d been kept in, barely-alive for over a decade—Lee, Kurenai and her daughter, several barely-recognizable faces, and a few Hyuuga clan members, including Hinata’s sister; her father, they would find out, along with the remaining clan heads, had been executed hardly a year ago.

No doubt that Sasuke would hear about their defection before he returned to Konoha.

“We’re preparing for war,” Shikamaru told her eventually after hours of tearful reunions and reconciliations, “we don’t need them to keep an eye on Sasuke anymore. We need them here, to fight.”

And over the course of the next several days Sakura watched as more and more strong, capable ninja from each and every village flooded to Suna.

“So what about me?” She asked one day while healing Kakashi, who hadn’t woken up since his arrival days before. He was fragile in every sense and Sakura knew that despite what she was medically capable of he would never be restored back to his former glory again—only so much could be done up against years of torture and starvation. “Are you going to send me out in the village with the escort crews to help evacuate?”

She wasn’t expecting him to answer with anything other than a ‘yes’, so when he shook his head, her concentration broke and her chakra completely fizzled from her hands.

“We need you for this,” he told her quietly, not looking at her as he spoke; it was as if he really,  _really_ didn’t want her there, but knew he had no other choice. “You give us the biggest advantage.”

She returned to her room that night shaking and crying, the reality of it all sinking in.

They were going to use her to get to Sasuke, she knew this, she accepted this, and  _god_  did it hurt.

But she was going to let him. She hated him, feared him, and would happily live the rest of her life and never see him again, but despite it all—and even though she knew how stupid she was for doing so—she  _missed_  him.

She fell asleep that night with thoughts of Sasuke’s dull eyes in her mind, and dreamt of a world where he hadn’t become warped. A world where they lived happily with their son. A world where they wouldn’t use her to kill him.

* * *

That morning she was woken up abruptly by a loud knocking on her door.

Before she could even get out of bed to answer it, it was thrown open—as the lock broke, Sakura sat straight up in bed—to reveal a very out-of-breath Hinata. “Sakura,” she exhaled quickly before inhaling even quicker, “go to the front entrance, quickly. It’s—“

In a flash Lee was there, slapping a hand over Hinata’s mouth and staring at the woman with a look akin to horror. Sakura stared at the two of them, so taken aback by their sudden appearance and strange actions; she could barely hear the sound of others running toward her room as well. When she met Hinata’s eyes and noticed the tears beginning to fall, a sob being held back by Lee’s palm, and as she observed his downright terrified expression, she ran.

“Sakura-chan! No, wait—“

But she refused to stop, wait, or listen to anything that needed to be said. There was something in Hinata’s eyes that drove Sakura to the front of the building quicker than she thought she was capable of. During her run she passed by both Kankuro  _and_  Temari who stared at her with horrified expressions as she smoothly and efficiently evaded them, continuing to run.

Whatever Hinata was trying to tell her was something that Sakura wasn’t—under any circumstances—supposed to know.

And she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t sick to death of her old friends and comrades keeping her out of things. But whatever this was had to have been important enough for Hinata to betray the trust of their friends and potentially sacrifice her position in the resistance.

“I just want to see her!” She heard the screaming before she saw anything. It sounded much like a child’s tantrum; angry, desperate, and distraught. “Please! I have to see her! I know she’s there!”

As Sakura pushed through a flurry of people, all of them muttering panicked statements toward one another—“what is he doing here?” “does Shikamaru have a plan?” “what do we do with him?” “it’s only a matter of time now” “what if it’s a trap?” “isn’t he supposed to be dead?”—her eyes searched frantically for something. For the boy who was still screaming. For a hint as to what was going on. For anything.

“Give her back! Let me see her!” The pleading continued, and as Sakura found the back of Shikamaru’s head—Shikamaru, who currently had someone in his shadow possession jutsu—she ran up to him, stopping only feet away when he yelled out.

“Sakura, get inside  _now_!”

The shout caught her off guard—only once before in her life had she heard him yell and that was countless years ago; a painful memory of blinding pain and her baby’s tears pulled at the edge of her mind—and caused her to stumble, suddenly unsure in her movements. But when the boy yelled once more, her mind was suddenly made up and time seemed to stand still.

“MOM!”

Her steps were unhurried as she walked toward him. She couldn’t even hear as Shikamaru yelled at her and as a couple of ninja grabbed her by her arms and attempted to yank her back. Sakura merely channeled chakra into her feet, yanked her arms back to her sides, and continued to approach.

“It’s probably a trap!”

“Don’t let her near him!”

“Get back!”

Take him out! Do it now!

“He’s just a kid!”

“If he kills her then we’re fucked!”

“Stand down,  _stand down_!”

Standing directly before Shikamaru was a young boy, perhaps ten years old, no older than twelve at the most, with bright red eyes and a mop of dark, messy hair. For a second Sakura swore she’d been sent back and time and was a young genin again—he looked just like Sasuke. But as red flashed into green and she found herself staring into eyes that were so similar to hers, it took her a long moment to realize what was going on. And when he called out again, his voice quieter this time, she suddenly came to her senses.

“Mom?”

His question was quiet and uncertain as he stared at her with wide glossy eyes, a particular recognition kicking in.

“Sakura don’t—“

She approached the boy, walking around the shadow-wielder who was still holding the child in his jutsu. “Shikamaru,” her voice was eerily calm, “If you don’t let go of my son I’m going to kill you.”

“Sakura—“

“Stop her!”

“Shikamaru, order?!”

The strategist sighed angrily, fury in his eyes and exhaustion etched into every inch of his face. Dropping the jutsu he turned toward the flurry of ninja and shook his head, standing back and allowing Sakura to see her son for the first time since he was a baby.

“Sora?” She hardly had time to whisper the name—that she hadn’t spoken in almost a decade—before the boy threw himself at her, wrapping his arms around her. In reply to her call he only began to cry, his wail piercing through her very soul as she collapsed to her knees, her son finally in her arms after so long.

And it suddenly didn’t matter that she’d been lied to, that her son—her  _baby_ —had been kept from her for all of these years. All that mattered was that she had her baby boy back, that he was there, and that he was  _real_ , as he clung to her and cried into her shirt.

She’d deal with her comrades’ betrayal later. Instead, she allowed her heart to rip, tear, and repair itself again with every “ _mom_ ” Sora sobbed brokenly.

* * *

“He knows I’m here.”

Despite the fact that the room was filled with people, the boy paid none of the strangers any attention, instead only speaking to Sakura, who sat on the couch beside him as he clung to her hand tightly.

A rumble passed through the room as Shikamaru spoke up. “Is he on the way?”

The boy shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, he didn’t  _see_  me leave. But he has to know I’m here. He heard Karin-san tell me about Mom.”

Sakura’s blood ran cold and she could see Shikamaru stiffen. No doubt in their minds: Karin was dead.

“Did he believe her?”

“I don’t know,” he repeated, shifting uncomfortably as he frowned, “I don’t think so, ‘cause when he walked in the room he looked mad. Really, really mad.” He glanced quickly at Shikamaru before looking back at Sakura. “We’re not supposed to talk about you—Dad gets angry. I left after that.” He hesitated with his words, tapping his foot as he fidgeted—a habit that Sakura herself had—before he spoke again. “Do you think Karin-san is in trouble?”

The way he looked anxiously at Sakura made her heart clench.

“I know my dad’s not a very good person,” he spoke quickly, “I know he hurts people sometimes and I know that what he does—what he’s doing isn’t good.” Sakura’s eyes widened at the boys admission. “I ask him sometimes about why he does everything but he never answers me. Juugo-san says he’s trying to fix things because the ninja world is broken, but I think Dad might be making things worse.”

“You’re a smart kid, Sora,” Shikamaru told him, Sakura couldn’t speak, her voice too thick with emotion to trust her voice so instead she squeezed his hand in agreement.

“When he comes here let me talk to him,” he spoke loudly, releasing Sakura’s hands and standing up, bowing toward Shikamaru, “I’m sure I can talk him out of hurting anyone—“

“I admire your willingness to do this, Sora, but there are going to be a lot of people out there fighting, and I don’t want you to get caught up in—“

“No!” He lifted his head abruptly and shot the man a fearful look, “I can do it! Seriously! He’ll listen to me! He’s done it before! I just need a couple of minutes and—and I know that if he sees Mom he’ll _really_  listen and—“

“Sora,” Sakura reached out and grabbed his hand again, urging him to sit back down—she could see the occupants of the room grow tense the louder the boy got; many fearful and distrustful despite his age. “We’ll talk about it later, calm down.”

“They need to let me—I have to—“ and as his frustration grew Sakura could hear the tears in his voice. If the sight wasn’t so heartbreaking to her she may have cracked a smile; he  _would_  inherit her propensity to cry while angry.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, pulling him close to her as the tears broke through, holding him against her chest while he whimpered. With protective eyes she watched as slowly everyone exited the room, leaving her and her son alone. “It’s okay.”

* * *

“I thought you were dead,” he whispered to her that night from where he was laying in her bed, his head in her lap, green eyes closed. “We thought you were dead. Everyone did.”

“I thought you were dead,” she parroted his words, running her fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp, “they told me Sas—your father killed you.”

He opened his eyes wide and stared up at her in disbelief. “Why would they do that?”

“I think that… they thought if I knew you were still alive, I’d want to go back. Or that I wouldn’t be loyal.”

“If…” he closed his eyes and turned his head away, as if trying to hide his hesitance at his next words, “if you knew that I was still alive, do you think that you would’ve come back?”

“Yes,” she spoke quickly, turning his cheek back toward her, silently urging him to look her in the eyes, “I would have come back for you in a heartbeat.”

“Even if it means betraying the resistance?”

Still without hesitation, she nodded, “Yes. Your life means more to me than anyone else’s. It may be selfish of me to say that but I would’ve done—and still would do—literally anything to keep you safe.

“Okay,” he whispered quietly, relaxing at her words.

After a long comfortable moment Sakura chewed on her lip lightly, biting back a sigh. “Sora,” to speak her son’s name—to him, no less—made a warm feeling come over her, “about what you said earlier. You said you’ve… stopped Sasuke—I mean—your dad from hurting people before.”

He nodded confidently. “Yeah, kind of often. He hit me once on accident when I was smaller.” At her look of horror he quickly explained. “Some lady spat on me and didn’t know he was around, or watching; I didn’t even know she’d spat on me, I didn’t feel it. Before he could strike her I jumped in the way.” He looked away from her, as if suddenly uncomfortable under her gaze. “I just, don’t like it when he does stuff like that. He doesn’t anymore though, really.”

She was shocked by the words in the most confusing way possible.

For years now she’d just about buried her love for Sasuke beneath her resentment of his actions; mainly the fact that he’d supposedly killed their son had been the main driving point of her fury toward him. But knowing that Sasuke had been nothing but gentle toward their son—physically at least—caused her heart to flutter ever-so-slightly.

She didn’t want to love him. She truly didn’t. But she couldn’t exactly help the way she felt.

Even if the man she was in love with was a homicidal tyrant; one who had apparently thought she was dead until recently.

“I think the reason we weren’t supposed to talk about you,” he spoke after a few silent minutes without being prompted, “was because it was too painful. He missed you but he wouldn’t talk about you. I had to go to Lee-san and Mirai’s mom to ask about what you were like.”

She smiled softly then, leaning her head back until it was resting again the door. “Yeah? And what did they have to say.”

Sora smiled as he spoke, “I think Lee-san was your biggest fan, probably.”

Sakura laughed, and the feeling felt good. “You’re right about that.”

“And Kurenai-san told me all about how talented and smart and good you were. Karin-san didn’t know you well but she acted like she respected you. I helped at the hospital sometimes and Shizune-san would tell me lots of stuff, too. She would say that even though you weren’t  _technically_  her student, you were her favorite.”

“I was her  _only_  ‘student’,” Sakura smiled, warmed at the sound of her old friends and comrades singing her praises after her ‘death’.

“Dad definitely loved you.”

He mustn’t have noticed how she stiffened beneath him and when her hand stopped moving through his hair he continued to talk.

“I would ask him when I was really little and he would avoid the question, but I could tell,” the boy smiled softly—he had his father’s smile—and kept his eyes closed. “I think Dad’s good at lying to everyone else, but I could always tell.” He opened his eyes and looked into her own. “Did you love Dad?”

Her eyes softened just as her hand resumed moving through his hair and her body lost its tenseness. “Yeah,” she rasped softly, chewing on the inside of her cheek, “I do.”

If the child noticed her swap of tenses, he didn’t show it.

* * *

Four days later, in the middle of the day, explosions sounded, interrupting a brief moment of bliss between Sakura and her son.

They’d been laughing over lunch, sitting together high up in one of the few trees that Suna had to offer, watching the last remnants of the civilians evacuate—mainly shop owners, and old, stubborn citizens that didn’t want to leave their homes—when the shockwaves shook the thick oak they sat in.

Sakura watched from afar as smoke began to rise, just outside of the main entrance to the village, and when another explosion sounded, this one from  _inside_  the village— _he’s already here here’s already in he’s already passed the gates_ —she stood up abruptly, heart suddenly caught in her throat.

She knew what she was supposed to do now, that she was supposed to meet up with Shikamaru at the old Kazekage tower, but as she turned to do so, subconsciously reaching out for Sora, she watched as he instead jumped down and immediately headed straight for where the second explosion had gone off.

“Sora!” She screamed as loud as she dared— _he’s going to hear you he’s going to come for you_ —jumping after him, scrambling to keep up with his sprint. “Sora, stop! We have to go back!”

“That’s dad! I can tell by his chakra! It’ll be okay!” Despite the nervousness in his green eyes there was the ghost of a smile on his face—the face of a child who missed their parent (despite their parent being a murderous tyrant).

But the child didn’t seem to understand that Sakura did not share the same trust in Sasuke as he did. So instead he continued to run, carefully evading her each time she reached out for his arm, smiling at her excitedly and repeating over and over again “don’t worry” “just trust me” “he’ll be so happy you’re alive”.

His attempts at easing her worries only caused them to increase ten-fold, and when she finally managed to put herself in between Sora and his pathway—standing directly ahead of him, stance low, arms spread wide to keep him from running any further into the village—she allowed herself a moment of relief when the boy actually stopped.

The moment lasted a fraction of a second before the sound of a thousand birds screaming behind her caused her to freeze, her head filling up completely with static. As she stared into Sora’s eyes she watched as his joy immediately transformed into horror, his mouth opening wide, and she found herself solely transfixed on the sight of his green eyes morphing into red sharingan.

“Dad,  _NO—_ ”

But Sora could only move so fast and hit so hard, so when Sakura watched—not felt—as Sasuke’s hand pierced through her shoulder instead of her chest, she was left stunned. Mainly, she was in awe of her young son’s ability to move so quickly. The wound was incredibly serious, but if she activated her seal now, it would be nothing to worry about.

She didn’t activate her seal though. Instead shock took hold of her and when she felt Sasuke’s other hand grip her opposite shoulder before he roughly  _yanked_  his hand out of her body, she collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath.

“Dad no, stop! It’s—no it’s  _mom!_ It’s her! She’s not dead, she’s—“

“Let’s go.”

Again, his words froze her completely. Sora continued to scream and Sakura could hear Sasuke struggle to grab hold of the boy and pull him away—back far out of reach from the battle that would undoubtedly level Suna entirely.

“Stop! We have to help her—“

“Sora,” Sasuke’s voice was firm, and Sakura could hear the frustration rising in it, “your mother is dead. She’s been dead since you were a baby. These people killed her. They are trying to  _trick_  you. They are lying to you and you’re falling for it. Now cut it out. You’re leaving.”

Sakura couldn’t see but she could hear as Sasuke appeared to get a solid grip on Sora, because as he pulled the boy away—the child screaming and crying hysterically the entire time, fighting and struggling to reach her—their voices began to get farther away, and when Sora’s crying turned into sobs, something inside Sakura snapped.

No, nothing snapped. A memory was released. A memory of Sora screaming as a baby. Sakura’s last memory of him for ten years.

“Stop it,” she mumbled under her breath as she stood, gathering her bearings enough to activate her seal, something she hadn’t done since the fourth shinobi world war. “Sasuke-kun—“ spitting some blood onto the sand she focused hard on the red stain, willing her senses to return, “stop. It’s me.” When Sora continued to struggle and scream and Sasuke continued to drag him away she inhaled as deeply as she could. “It’s me!”

She turned around just in time to watch Sasuke come flying at her again. This time, despite being stunned, she was ready, and sidestepped a second chidori to the chest.

“DAD!”  And Sora was there too, placing himself in between his father and Sakura at every opportunity. “Stop! It’s really her! It is! Right, Mom? Tell him!”

“Sasuke-kun,” the name fell clumsily from her lips but she forced the words through regardless, “it really is me. Look,” pointing to her seal on her head, she then pointed to the whole in her shoulder that was slowly sealing itself up. There was no way he could doubt her authenticity now, when he watched as her cells regenerated themselves. “It really is me.”

Despite the proof, he remained stubborn. “No. Sakura is dead. You’re dead. Leave my son alone.” And despite the pitiful words being the pleas of a man in denial, they absolutely infuriated her.

“No!”  She screamed, finally placing herself in between Sora and Sasuke, no longer allowing her child to try and keep her safe, “he is  _my_  son, too!” She screamed, tears springing to her eyes. “Our son, Sasuke-kun.  _Our_  son.” And when sobs began to eat away at her composure, she allowed them to. “Don’t you remember? When I stayed up for days for him? When I didn’t eat because he was so sick? When I cried all the damn time? When I refused to put him down and you—you didn’t hold him  _once_!” Falling to her knees and staring up at him through blurry eyes she only wanted to yell further but instead she attempted to glare at him, failing even with that.

And as soon as the recognition—the unbridled acceptance—flashed through his eyes, Sakura closed her own and allowed her body to give out. She would’ve fallen onto her face completely if Sasuke hadn’t caught her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her onto her feet.

And when she opens her eyes again he’s looking at her. Not through her, not past her, but actually at her. And in those eyes she sees the same emotion she saw so many years ago when she knew that he was still there—her old Sasuke-kun—despite what he wanted everyone to think. So she simply cried as she stared him in the eyes, watching as every emotion she ever wanted to see from him flickered through his eyes in mere seconds.

But that was all she saw.

The end of both Uchiha Sasuke and Haruno Sakura is so anti-climactic it doesn’t seem real.

Sakura doesn’t even get the opportunity to see who kills her, but when the blade pierces her back—and she’s not even sure if it’s actually a blade; it could be an elemental jutsu simply shaped that way—her entire body pulses with pain once and immediately goes numb.

In her mind she knows he could’ve seen it coming if it wasn’t for her, and she knows he would’ve been able to drop her and dodge it, but for some reason he doesn’t and instead allows it to penetrate him as well. It strikes her just below the base of her neck, directly between the tops of her shoulders, and it strikes him in the dead center of the chest.

The jutsu expands, destroying tissues and organs and causing blinding, absolutely incomparable pain (if judging by the noises Sasuke makes, clearly not paralyzed on impact like her), before it completely vanishes, leaving both of them with giant gaping holes in their bodies, and pints of blood spilling out of them with every passing second.

Sasuke never once releases her, and when they both collapse to the ground, a mess of blood and half-exposed, half-destroyed organs, she can’t  _feel_  him and her eyes can’t focus on anything but she  _knows_ that she’s lying on top of him.

Sakura thinks, as she feels her life slip away, that death isn’t as painful as she feared; she’s sure that she’s felt worse or perhaps even equal levels of pain throughout her career as a shinobi.

It’s the sound of Sora’s cries that makes death unbearable. The sound of him screaming his throat raw and fighting off the ninja that attempt to collect him and bring him away.

Sakura finds that her last thoughts are filled with nothing more than maternal worry. She hopes Sora doesn’t kill anyone in his despair and she hopes he isn’t killed along with them. She’d die a thousand deaths if it meant he’d live through this.

And when the blackness consumes her and she’s left with countless questions that will never be answered and ‘what-if’s that will never be contemplated, she still doesn’t feel an ounce of regret for falling in love with—and subsequently staying in love with—Uchiha Sasuke.

She only hopes that in some other life, they get their happy ending.


End file.
